The Hodge and the Podge ...
Apr. 20th, 2011 02:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
texchanSo, bit of a mix-mash post today. Although, now that I am sitting here, staring at the blinking cursor, I can't think of much to say. I hate that.
Still displaced from the office, of course. That will remain status quo for the next several days -- maybe even a week. Paint started going up on the walls today. I was apprehensive about the color before it went up. You know ... that whole feeling of "I think I'm gonna love it ... but what if it looks different when it's up?" And, of course, everyone currently in my household (guests included) had to weigh in (uninvited) with an opinion as to the color. I was thinking of it as something between a robin's egg blue and a sort of Tiffany Blue, but softer in tone. After hearing everything from baby blue to sky blue to "it's exactly like what you already have in the kitchen and bedroom ... so why did you need new paint again?", I started to lose confidence in my choice. Funny how no one can destroy my confidence and self esteem quicker than my family. I think it's because they never say anything positive. It's always doubts and disagreement and "are you sure about that?" So that I end up having to defend my decisions and choices -- always. There is something emotionally and mentally exhausting about knowing those closest to you don't trust you and don't believe in you. They might say they do, but actions speak louder than words.
Anyhow, the color started going up on the walls, and I love it so far. Even with less than half the room done, I already feel better walking in there -- calmer and more at ease. Funny how a new color can make a big difference. And I feel relieved that I don't hate it. One crisis averted ... unless it dries to a shade I can't stand. But I'm telling myself so far, so good. I am kind of dreading trying to put everything back into that room, no matter how much I want my space back.
Finished a Diana Wynne Jones book last night. The Time of the Ghost. Great book. It still makes me sad to know she passed away.
Hubby decided to work from home today, so we ate breakfast out together. We tried out a new place -- a little French-style bistro that we had driven by several times. I had an omelette with tomato, avocado, and spinach. Best omelette ever. And, after, I found the most wonderful little independently-owned book store. I love Borders. I really do. But there is something extra-special about browsing in a store like this. Truly lovely experience. I bought four new books, in spite of the fact that I just spent a week packing up all the books that were on my office shelves -- and was lamenting that I had way too many. It's a sickness. What more can I say?
Currently reading (in addition to Pratchett) Tongues of Serpents. I have all the other Temeraire books, but hesitated over purchasing it after reading many less than stellar reviews. So I checked it out of the library. Maybe I will invest in it when I can find it in paperback. I just started it this morning, so we'll see how it goes.
I so want to write. So, so, so much want to. I think it's a mixture of the depression and fear holding me back. Plus it's hard to write when my mother is here. She never stops talking, although I feel guilty for writing that out loud. It's ... complicated. I guess that's the only way I can explain it. "Complicated" sums the whole relationship up nicely. Neat, with a bow on top ... even though it's painfully messy in reality. At any rate, it's hard to write with someone talking at you in the background -- and getting angry when you don't talk back. Still, maybe I will give it a try. I haven't had the urge this strongly in months. Seems a shame to waste it.
Still displaced from the office, of course. That will remain status quo for the next several days -- maybe even a week. Paint started going up on the walls today. I was apprehensive about the color before it went up. You know ... that whole feeling of "I think I'm gonna love it ... but what if it looks different when it's up?" And, of course, everyone currently in my household (guests included) had to weigh in (uninvited) with an opinion as to the color. I was thinking of it as something between a robin's egg blue and a sort of Tiffany Blue, but softer in tone. After hearing everything from baby blue to sky blue to "it's exactly like what you already have in the kitchen and bedroom ... so why did you need new paint again?", I started to lose confidence in my choice. Funny how no one can destroy my confidence and self esteem quicker than my family. I think it's because they never say anything positive. It's always doubts and disagreement and "are you sure about that?" So that I end up having to defend my decisions and choices -- always. There is something emotionally and mentally exhausting about knowing those closest to you don't trust you and don't believe in you. They might say they do, but actions speak louder than words.
Anyhow, the color started going up on the walls, and I love it so far. Even with less than half the room done, I already feel better walking in there -- calmer and more at ease. Funny how a new color can make a big difference. And I feel relieved that I don't hate it. One crisis averted ... unless it dries to a shade I can't stand. But I'm telling myself so far, so good. I am kind of dreading trying to put everything back into that room, no matter how much I want my space back.
Finished a Diana Wynne Jones book last night. The Time of the Ghost. Great book. It still makes me sad to know she passed away.
Hubby decided to work from home today, so we ate breakfast out together. We tried out a new place -- a little French-style bistro that we had driven by several times. I had an omelette with tomato, avocado, and spinach. Best omelette ever. And, after, I found the most wonderful little independently-owned book store. I love Borders. I really do. But there is something extra-special about browsing in a store like this. Truly lovely experience. I bought four new books, in spite of the fact that I just spent a week packing up all the books that were on my office shelves -- and was lamenting that I had way too many. It's a sickness. What more can I say?
Currently reading (in addition to Pratchett) Tongues of Serpents. I have all the other Temeraire books, but hesitated over purchasing it after reading many less than stellar reviews. So I checked it out of the library. Maybe I will invest in it when I can find it in paperback. I just started it this morning, so we'll see how it goes.
I so want to write. So, so, so much want to. I think it's a mixture of the depression and fear holding me back. Plus it's hard to write when my mother is here. She never stops talking, although I feel guilty for writing that out loud. It's ... complicated. I guess that's the only way I can explain it. "Complicated" sums the whole relationship up nicely. Neat, with a bow on top ... even though it's painfully messy in reality. At any rate, it's hard to write with someone talking at you in the background -- and getting angry when you don't talk back. Still, maybe I will give it a try. I haven't had the urge this strongly in months. Seems a shame to waste it.